


A Lot of It Quite Confusing

by kaulayau



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Fluff and Humor, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaulayau/pseuds/kaulayau
Summary: He wasn’t supposed to do it alone.





	A Lot of It Quite Confusing

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh I didn’t get to post this yesterday!!
> 
> february ficlet day 3: character a is turned into a cat or dog.
> 
> I love albus and scorpius! though I have my problems with the cursed child (MANY problems) but I’m glad this ship exists, you know?
> 
> please enjoy!

Albus Severus Potter is an Animagus and the probability of that is close to nothing. No, no, not that Scorpius doesn’t believe in Albus — he believes in Albus more than anything on this Earth, no, but — it’s simply —

Whoa.

“Can you do it again?” And Albus does. Scorpius the _whoosh_ and the vacuum, the indication of magic happening. He laughs. “ _Merlin_ , how is that possible? 

“Woof,” Albus replies.

Because he is a bona fide, big and fuzzy dog. Scorpius can’t wrap his mind around it.

Another flurry of air, and Albus back to his normal, disheveled self, grinning, panting. “I don’t recall the mechanics exactly? Just — that.” He puts his hands on his knees. “Training. Practice, if you want an answer. And. And Rose. Professor McGonagall. The likes.” Then his eyes go wide. “My dad’ll go ballistic.

* * *

It’s incredible. They’ve found out what kind of dog Albus is — one of those Boxer breeds, with a smushed-in nose. Scorpius still can’t believe it. It takes years of discipline to become an Animagus, and a good teacher, and besides, how did Albus — 

Wait.

Wait, Albus didn’t tell him anything.

Albus didn’t tell him anything?

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The Great Hall is long, and their usual spot is right there in the middle. (No one can be bothered to make the trek.) “This is — big news.”

“I — um. I can’t — really think — of an — excuse?” Albus says. “I guess I wanted to surprise you. Or something.”

Hmm. “Rose knew before I did? I could have helped you.”

Albus sighs. “I know, I know, but.” Here’s their spot. They sit next to each other, as they normally do. Scorpius reaches for a bread roll and braces himself for Albus’s bad excuse. “You’re always so busy — love — and — you were going mad about the O.W.L.s.”

Why. Why did he have to say _love_. Scorpius can’t stay angry. Is he angry? No, he doesn’t think he is. Is he? “All right, then.”

And then they’re quiet. _Why_ are they quiet. Is Scorpius really angry? Is he? He can’t even tell. What about Albus? What’s he thinking? Oh, this is terrible. He needs to say something. Or eat. Or. He needs to — 

“Is that why in Sixth Year you talked like their was gum stuck in the roof of your mouth?” asks Scorpius. “For a month, is it? Around the end of the last term?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because one of the training requirements to become an Animagus is — keeping a Mandrake leaf there for a long while.”

Albus raises his eyebrows, registering it. “Oh, yeah, that’s right!”

And here comes the silence again.

Scorpius isn’t sure. 

Wait, he just thought of something. “Is that why —you wouldn’t — kiss me?” He says it like they didn’t

He’s panicked now. “No, no, it — I mean, yes —”

Well, there it is. Scorpius decides to smile at him. “Well, maybe we can make up for it?” Now might be a good time to. Perhaps. Peck his cheek. But that doesn’t happen.

* * *

He can’t be _mad_ at him. No, that’s not possible. If anything Scorpius is — exuding happiness. What Albus has achieved is difficult — close to unattainable. He may not think he’s the greatest wizard, but Scorpius knows that it’s in him somewhere. That he’ll have the willpower to carry through. Had the willpower.

Then — what is this? This — thing? It nags at him, pulls. Why didn’t Albus just tell him from the start? It’s just — why didn’t he tell Scorpius anything? Why didn’t he tell him his plans, this humongous task he would undertake? Isn’t he supposed to? Did he forget? How could he have forgotten? 

Oh. Professor Longbottom is calling on him.

Scorpius is too consumed to hear what he’s saying.

“Venusia Crickerly,” he answers. That was the topic of the reading homework last night, so that’s his best bet.

“Exactly right, Scorpius,” says the professor. Unlike Albus. Who doesn’t want to say anything to him, it seems.

No, he’s not angry.  

* * *

There’s a stairway, leading to a corridor, leading to a notch in the wall. It’s a good place to snog. At least that’s what Teddy and Victoire told them. Told Albus. Withholding information from Scorpius seems to run in the Potter family.

Albus tugs on Scorpius’s uniform. Scorpius can hear him breathing. “This is what we’re supposed to do, right? This is — how all the legendary Hogwarts couples are supposed to act?” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. “I… suppose.” That doesn’t seem like enough. “We don’t — _need_ to be like them?”

“Yeah.” Albus shuffles his feet on the ground. “But do you want to?”

“What?”

“I mean — do you _want_ to snog or whatever?”

“Um. Yes? Yes. That — we’re here, right?”

 So they leave it at that.

* * *

It’s Rose, on the stairwell— a fireball of unbounded brilliance. She waves at him, smiles, though whether it’s warm or teasing, Scorpius doesn’t know. “How are you doing, Scorpie?”

“I’m — fine.” He’ll get straight to the point. “What about — you?” Or — not.

Her shoulder collides with his in an explosion. “Just fine. But you — seem on edge. What’s the matter? Do you want me to mend your friendship with Albus?”

She talks like she didn’t ignore him for roughly four years. But anyway.

“No. He didn’t. We snogged. We snogged earlier.” Why. Did he say that. Why did he say that. Why did he even — bloody say that. 

Her face is a clash of revelation. And then, “Oh, that’s right, you’re an item now!”

Scorpius forgets that it’s recent stuff. “That’s — eh — yeah, since the end of last year.”

She’s laughing at him. “Did you see each other over the summer much?”

“Not — not really, no.”

“Already snogging,” Rose says, awes. “And it’s the start of Year Seven. Hormones are running like the Snitch.” When she shakes her head, her curls bounce. “You think you’ll last long?”

“Wh-what?”

“That’s what I said.” She’s prying. “Do you think you’ll make it.”

“I — it’s — of course!”

“Good,” she affirms, satisfied. “If you said no, I would have gotten upset. The pair of you have been friends for a while, haven’t you?” She grins wider than she ever has. “Relationship troubles?”

Should Scorpius even answer? “He — Albus is an Animagus.”

“He’s a — that’s right, that’s right! Yeah. He was studying how. I was surprised he made it this far.” When did cross over to his left? Wasn’t she at his right? “Does that mean he’s done it?”

“Done what?” 

“He’s turned into — whatever he is?”

“A dog. And — yes,” Scorpius says. “He — he didn’t tell you?” 

“Not a word of it. It’s early in the term. I doubt he could have found the time,” Rose replies. “You know, we worked on it over the break, but. He didn’t do it successfully. He really wanted to get it. He was so — determined.” She pauses. “Why do you ask?”

* * *

Rose is right about one thing — they’ve been friends for a long time. So that should make things easy. This whole. Dating thing. 

Oh, Merlin. That’s what they’re doing now. _Dating._ That’s their situation. They’re an item, as Rose put it.

What changed? Nothing much. They’re doing the same things they used to do. Except. More — kissing or whatever. And they’ve only ever kissed — how many times? That one time earlier, maybe twice or thrice before the summer came, maybe once _during_ the summer — maybe a lot less than Scorpius believes it to be — maybe a lot more —

They’re so used to being friends that being more than friends is unfathomable.

* * *

But really, what’s so different? Why can’t he _talk_ to Albus?

* * *

Is Scorpius mad at him?

* * *

Somewhat.

* * *

He doesn’t really — know.

* * *

Maybe that’s what he should tell him?

* * *

“I wrote to my dad about it.” Albus adjusts his vest at the hem, fixes his sleeves in front of the mirror. He really is quite catching. “The whole Animagus plot. And I’m certain he’ll send an entire novel about Sirius. And I’m certain he’ll — I don’t know.” 

“I’m mad at you,” Scorpius says. What is wrong with him. Why can’t he time anything right. Why can’t he think straight anymore? “I’m mad at you, but I also really really think you’re beautiful.”

Albus stops where he is. “That’s — thank — you?” He looks ruffled for a second, then forgets about preening himself. He hustles to Scorpius’s side, sits down beside him on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re mad at me? What did I do?”

“You’re — great?” That’s all he can think of. “I mean, your grades aren’t the highest and you’re not athletic and you absolutely hate everything about school —”

Don’t lean in all frazzled, Albus, like what always happens — Merlin. This is not Scorpius’s week. “That’s — harsh —”

“Not what I meant, not what I meant! I’m just.” Are these truly all the words in him? Does he have nothing else? “Why didn’t you just — tell me?”

“Tell you — oh.” Albus. Albus Albus Albus. “We’re still about that?” 

He’s so dense. “ _Yes_. Yes, we — I’m sorry. Sorry.” 

“No, no — tell me —”

“Oh, I should tell you, but you won’t tell me anything —” 

“Whoa —” 

“ _Whoa_?”

“You’re switching back and forth between —”

“Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

“See?” 

“Only if you —”

“I just want you know, Scorpius, this isn’t my fault —”

“Nothing’s your fault, never think that —”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because — you’ve done something great!”

“Are — are you jealous, because you should never be, you’re a million times greater than I will ever be —”

“What? You’re _incredible_ , don’t —”

“Can’t you just let me —” 

“I just think you’re wonderful!”

“I — I — think you’re wonderful, too!”

“You could have just told me you wanted to be a — a Boxer dog, or whatever — you can tell me anything — you always have — I could have — you’re good at keeping secrets — what — is it that you don’t trust me? Do you not trust me, Albus? I’m really sorry. I’m —”

“What? No no no no. Scorpius, I trust you, more than anyone, I do, I’m —”

“Then why couldn’t you —”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Albus says. “I don’t know. I think I said this. I have no good reason. I don’t have a reason at all. And I feel — really bad. I feel horrible. I don’t know anything. I’m just — trying.”

Scorpius breathes. What did he want from this? “Me — me too.” They’re leaning on each other. “Everything’s just so — different?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, we’re going in circles here.”

“Isn't that how relationships work? Communication, and stuff like that?”

“We’re always communicating.”

“But it’s not the same as before. We’re — not like that.”

That’s — true. “Yeah.” All of this is true. “You’re always calling me love.”

He rolls his eyes, laughs. “But honestly?” Albus looks at him. “I always feel — very awkward saying — that.”

“Oh.” Scorpius supposes he has everything he wished for. “You don't have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“But do you like it?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Albus smirks. “Love.”

“ _Stop_.” 

“Love.”

“I think I like you better as a Boxer.”

“I think I like you when you’re — smiling.”

They stay where they are.

Should they kiss? Do they want to kiss?

Maybe not.

“Albus.”

“Yes?”

“Can you do it again?”


End file.
